


Waifs and Strays

by moonbee



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Eloping, Gay, Kissing, Love, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, On the Run, Runaway, Song Inspired, Teen Romance, Young Love, god help me, style, what have i gotten myself in to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbee/pseuds/moonbee
Summary: "Colorado to San Francisco is not a world trip, Stanley.""It will be if we're together,"Stuck at dead ends at the end of high school and unfulfilled Stan and Kyle elope to San Francisco to avoid falling into mutually undesirable lives apart from one another. Together they ride west from train to train to their destination as lovers estranged from their lives.





	Waifs and Strays

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is sort of my love letter to the song "Piazza, New York Catcher" by Belle and Sebastian. I'd recommend listening to it if you feel like it.  
> I hope it's okay, I haven't been active in writing or posting recently. Mostly because i really wanted this to be perfect. Half of me wanted to write it all before even posting but honestly i could't wait that long.  
> This one's gonna be a long one, I'm hoping for over 100k so good luck, sit back and enjoy.
> 
> "Oh elope with me in private and we'll set something ablaze,  
> a trail for the devil to erase"

Kyle lifted his hand cautiously and wiped his brow with the back of his wrist, carful to avoid contact between his face and the grubby and wrinkled cloth he held in his hand, full of crumbs from the rush of lunch time customers. He had been trying to clean the sticky orange juice of this table for almost five minuets now, which seemed like hours in work time and he knows his manager will still insist it's not clean enough. Calum is only a year older than him but he seems to be under the impression that his job as assistant manager at South Park's local Harbucks has made the sun shine out his asshole, when in fact, he is as much of a lowlife as the rest of the staff; no college degree, no intelligence and not one trip out of state. The only thing he's good at is following Mr Tweak around like a lost puppy who has somehow learned to say the words 'Yes Sir,' and nothing else.

Kyle had originally wanted to work at Mr Tweak's first business, Tweak Bro's, being that he had a proud hatred for large corporations and faceless companies. Kyle was passionate about accountability and places like Harbucks didn't pay their taxes. However, Mr Tweak had a strict family only rule at Tweak Bro's which was somehow related to the Tweak brand secret blend. He had offered Kyle a job at his second business and Kyle had reluctantly agreed. You had to chose your battles of pickiness in South Park, at the end of the day, money was money and he had run out of small businesses that he respected enough to hand his CV to, only for it to end up in the shredder a week later. It was just one of the downsides to living in such a tiny town, you soon ran out of things to respect and never fell short of things to hate. 

His job at Harbucks quickly came to be on the list of things he hated. Kyle had always been overly academic and it turned out that his scholarly tendencies had little use in the world of practical labour, he had weak wrists and a naturally inquisitive mind, far preferring to people-watch than stock the back. He had decided early on that he wasn't cut out for this line of work (not that it had ever been his long-term plan) but had refused to quit up until this point on several grounds. For one he needed the money for college, he also needed practical skills to add to the blank part of his CV labelled 'Work Experience' and finally, because his parents had told him he should quit. 

Recently everything Kyle's parents had suggested to him had ripped into him like a jagged knife, not that he often admitted this to them. His mother had managed to become only increasingly intense in her hovering as graduation loomed closer and closer to reality, his father remained a shadowing 'yes' man to her every word. They had offered to support him financially throughout college and Kyle couldn't picture anything more terrible than sitting alone in his law school dorm with a bank full of his father's law firm money.

Law school was another condition of this support, though condition was too flexible a way of saying it, as it implied that Kyle might have the opportunity to disagree.

He hadn't even wanted to go to law school, his original plan was to apply to study politics and try out for a basketball scholarship, which interested him far more. His mother had been quick to talk him out of that, "And then what will you do?" she had asked "You're so versed in law, already, Kyle. You'd be wasting a perfect opportunity, there's not a word in your father's books that you don't understand." Kyle had allowed himself to think she was right at the time, politics was an in-game for white collar asshole and private school graduates but it didn't stop him regretting sending off his applications to all the law schools that his parents had suggested to him and it didn't stop him crying when he was accepted to every single one. The thought of his college essay made him cringe, it was the most mechanical and disgusting thing he had ever written, an amalgamation of every schmoozing tip and formal plead he might have given, overseen by his mother every step of the way. It was perfect on its first read; absolutely faultless but upon second glance it was a cheap façade. In defiance he had continued to play on the school's basketball team all throughout senior year, waiting to see if he would be scouted. He had no such luck. Now the only act of defiance he maintained was keeping the job that made him miserable. 

Kyle lamented, his brows furrowed as he scrubbed against the tacky orange juice on the table. His fingers were beginning to prune. He was just moving on to an internal rant about his listlessness causing him to be yet to accept any of his college options, when the bell above the door rang so frantically that Kyle was surprised it didn't fly clean off of its hanger. He turns around and recognises only a familiar streak of black hair before Stan is in front of him, gripping his shoulders. Hard.

Stan's eyes are wild and blue and he's breathing heavily like he ran here and considering the way he dashed through the door, it's likely that he did.

"Kyle," he speaks through a heavy exhale, "thank god you're here."

Kyle squirms under his touch wary of how easily the sensation of Stan's hands on him makes him melt, even now, after all this time. "Of course I'm here," Kyle speaks, a little indignantly, "it's a Saturday, this is my Saturday job," It had started to become his after school job as well since Calum has been in charge of the scheduling, though Kyle resents this.

"Right," Stan exhales, his breath still having not calmed but his eyes looking slightly less crazed. Kyle can't help but stare into them, they're as deep and blue as he's always remembered, as beautiful as ever too. For a moment all he can do is be happy that he can tell Stan this now. Kyle, unashamedly counted the recent shift in their dynamitic as the best thing to happen in his life. It was also the most terrifying.

But now Stan was here gripping his shoulders and staring into his eyes and Kyle didn't know what to do with himself. He was about to ask Stan if everything was alright but Stan beat him to it, cutting off Kyle's question before it could even ass from his brain to his throat. "Kyle," he began, his eyes searching, "elope with me."

"What!?" Kyle struggled out in disbelief.

Stan was fumbling, as if only just now he had decided he should be down on his knees and couldn't decide whether it was too late to do it now, he eventually got down and looked up at Kyle with a shaken smile, "You heard me, elope. With me. Please." Stan was shuffling about, grabbing at Kyle's hands. Kyle let him take them.

Kyle whipped his head around to the counter, Calum is out back counting beans or some shit and the other girl who was supposed to be on shift today went home sick an hour ago after throwing up in the toilets. Kyle thought she might be pregnant, though she wasn't glowing. Now Kyle feels like he might throw up. "What's going on? Is this some kind of joke? What about college?" Kyle has a thousand more questions but these seem the most pressing.

''Fuck college.'' Stan speaks and then seems to register a frown on Kyle's face. "I mean, fuck college without you, Kyle. I can't do it dude, we can't be apart. I think maybe the world would snap in two. I know you're not happy, I can feel it. I can feel it here," Stan said and he placed his hand over his heart. "We don't have to do that."

Kyle feels his heart ache and his eyes brim, the sick feeling in his stomach has moved up to his throat now and he makes a strangled noise. His eyes dart before returning to Stan's steady blue ones. He considers Stan's words 'the world would snap in two'. It feels so entirely true that Kyle can't believe he didn't consider it before. He takes a deep breath, "Where would we go?" Kyle asks shaking his head for allowing himself to humour this proposal.

A look of dread crosses Stan's face, "San Francisco," he answers and Kyle can tell how hard he is trying to even his voice.

Kyle frowns, "Stan I hate San Francisco, don't you remember?" Kyle asks, though Stan clearly does.

"It won't be like that this time, Kyle," Stan begins, "We can stay with my cousin. And we'll be together, you know that's what was wrong last time, we were apart and the world almost broke."

Kyle has to admit he has a point, it would be different, he wouldn't be broken by their separation. And then he thinks of college again and the idea of going makes him was to hurl. He is awfully aware of how Stan is still on his knees, still pleading.

"Kyle please, it'll be a world trip," Stan says hopefully.

Kyle crosses his arms, "Colorado to San Francisco is not a world trip, Stanley."

"It will if we're together," Stan argues.

Kyle looks back down and him, knelt on the ground, his long limbs crumpled and begging, brow covered in sweat and eyes brimmed with tears. He thinks of everything they've gone through together and begins to wonder why he ever thought they could be apart, there hasn't been a day in his life where Stan wasn't there for him. He thinks again of himself in that cold law school dorm alone and miserable and he knows he's made his choice. He nods, unable to fathom his decision into words, he nods hard and squeezes his eyes tight shut and doesn't open them until Stan's arms are around him and it feels like his entire world is whole with the gesture.

Stan pulls away after what feels like eons and Kyle feels the sensation of no longer being whole. There's tears all down Stan's face which makes Kyle aware of the matching ones on his own cheeks, "Meet me at the statue in an hour." Stan tells him.

Kyle stands and watches him leave just like that, utterly perplexed, he waits for his body, one fibre of his body to argue against his decision, he searches it up and down and only when Stan has passed over the horizon of Main Street towards his house does realise that every inch of his body is ready to follow him.

He looks down and realises that throughout the whole ordeal he had remained clinging to the soggy dish cloth. He drops it to the table and it lands with a dull slap. He turns away and makes a B-line for the staff only back room. Calum is in there levelling the scales with the pre-proportioned coffee beans. 

"I quit," Kyle is surprised by how calm his tone is.

Calum turns and gives him a blank look, "You have to give a two week notice if you want to resign,"

Kyle removes his apron and throws it on to the nearest countertop, "I quit," he repeats. 

Calum looks pretty angry and Kyle realises there's a fair chance he'll never see Calum again in his life. Its this thought that allows him to turn on his heal without looking back and make a direct exit.

He runs back to his house, not entirely sure why except for he only has an hour to pack any belongings he might want before meeting Stan at the statue. When he reaches his house the driveway is empty, both his parents are out, his father working overtime and his mother at the organic Saturday market she has become recently obsessed with. He unlocks the door with the key under the mat and pushes it firmly, knowing well its stiffness and weight. He is immediately met with the familiar scent of potpourri, the same as they have kept on the side table by the door for as long as Kyle can remember. 

He was filled with the overwhelming sensation of his house. He allows himself to drink it all in, walking across the warn areas of the brown carpet, the smell of breakfast still lingering. Something that was so repetitive that it had become a collage integral to his being. 

Once he was on the landing of the first floor he could hear a heavy base beat thrumming from Ike's room, the floor speakers that annoyed their father so greatly being made full advantage of now that the rest of the family were supposedly out. Kyle crept past despite the fact that if Ike could hear him over the noise it would be a practical miracle. As he passed Ike's room his nostrils were hit with a thick waft of weed from under the door, he wrinkled his nose, the smell synonymous with awful parties, cheap beer and pop music as bad as a migraine.

Kyle's room was another blow of nostalgic pain, the ugly blue walls that he had chosen to have painted that way when he was 5, because Stan had said it was his favourite colour, the single bed pushed up by the window, he and Stan had shared it more often than not, even once they both knew they were too old to be doing so and with renewed inhibition once they had finally given into their feelings for one another. The picture on the wall, his stacks of journals and books filled with newspaper clippings.

He goes to his closet and wrenches out his old duffel bag from beneath the piles of clothes that he doesn't wear but doesn't have the heart to throw out. He lays the bag out on the bed, he never realised how many things he had. He starts with his clothes, mostly packing warmer clothes, his closet unequip for the heat of San Francisco. He folds them neatly and packs them like files. Then he starts stuffing his journals in. There's scarcely space left by the time he moves on to the other bits he might need: books, a picture of his family, his wallet, the newspaper from the day he and Stan first kissed. There's no space for his basketball trophies, they would be too heavy anyway.

He looks around at his room again, at first glance you wouldn't see how stripped it was, at second glance it lacks all things that make Kyle himself.

Kyle takes his phone out of his back pocket and unlocks it. His wallpaper is a picture of he and Stan together on Kyle's birthday almost a year ago. Kyle hasn't changed it in all that time. It's his favourite picture and now he regrets not having it printed because now there's no way of taking it with him. Obviously his phone can't accompany him any further. Kyle's family had taken him out for a birthday meal at some upscale restaurant in Denver. Kyle is looking down the lens as he holds the phone out in front of him, pulling the same smile he does for every photo and Stan is shoulder to shoulder with him, not looking down the camera but instead fixed on Kyle, eyes crinkled, smile genuine they're both wearing suits, though Stan's tie isn't done up well. Kyle guesses his dad never taught him. It was one of the rare things that had let Kyle think maybe, maybe Stan loved him the way Kyle had wanted.

He opens his contacts and scrolls down to Ike. He writes the number down the number in his current journal with the fancy pen his father had given him that birthday. Then he packs the journal and pen into his bag and leaves his phone on the bed.

Finally he digs under the bed and retrieves the jar of Christmas and birthday money he had been saving outside of his bank account. There's just under $1000 dollars in there. He stashes it in the inner pocket of his bag, then hoists the thing over his shoulder. It weighs a ton.

Kyle checks the alarm clock on his bedside table, he has twenty minuets.

Downstairs, Kyle stands in the dining room. He looks out the window to the back garden. It's mid May and only now has the snow begun to melt. He retrieves some note paper from the side table and a pen and sets it down on the table. For a while he stands over it not knowing what to write, fiddling with the pen in his hand. Eventually his words find him and he begins the short letter.

'Mom, Dad and Ike,

I am leaving.

This place isn't for me, it never was. I'm sorry.

Do not hate yourselves, do not try and find me. 

-Kyle.'

Kyle set the pen down by the note pad and turned to leave. In front of the door stood Ike.

Kyle froze.

They stared at each other.

Ike's eyes were red-rimmed and scanning. Ike was 15 and going through a puberty that Kyle had never experienced himself. Less angst and more hormones. He was fast catching up to Kyle's height and Kyle could't help but be annoyed by this despite the obvious genetic difference between the two. "You're leaving," Ike said.

Kyle stayed frozen for a moment trying to decide what to to. Ike was almost three years younger than him and high on marijuana and he had still figured him out. He was always going to be the miracle child. Kyle nodded slowly.

"Oh," Ike said. "Is Stan going too?"

"How did you-"

Ike rolled his eyes, "Please." He said in a tone that made Kyle a little furious. The air was stiff between them.

"Are you going to try and stop me?" Kyle asked.

"No," Ike stepped to the side and let Kyle pass him, bag and all. Kyle opened the front door and exited onto the front step. "Are you going to say goodbye?" Ike asked.

"-Sure," Kyle was take a little off guard, he hadn't expected that. There was silence for a few moments before Kyle spoke again. "Well. Goodbye."

"Bye." Ike replied.

Kyle stared at his brother then turned quickly and suddenly he was running, the door was still open but he was running.

Kyle would have gone straight to Stan if he could but there was one thing he had to do on his way.

The South Park bank was old, it smelt the way every bank does, Kyle considers this the smell of corruption, though he realises now is a pointless time to consider this opinion. The woman behind the glass screen looks like she might be having a hard day. Kyle sighs before speaking. "Hi, I need to empty my account," He tells her. For some reason he had expected her to argue but she just raises her eyebrows and tells his to put his card in the reader. He searches for his wallet in the duffel bag and eventually finds it and his card. There's quiet while she counts the money out. Then she hands it to him. Kyle adds it to the pocket with the rest of his money then thanks her and leaves. Now everything he has to his name is in that bag; a little over $5,000, some clothes and some journals. The thought makes Kyle feel sick again and as he walks towards the point where he and Stan are meeting he feels numb and confused, like he might be watching a movie about himself, or maybe this is just a memory.

Only when he sees Stan sat under the John Elway statue, their statue does Kyle begin to feel himself again. Stan beams at him and Kyle can tell he's relieved. The hurry to close the gap between them. Stan is wearing one backpack and holding another by the top handle, Kyle knows it's too late to tell him that this is going to annoy him for the entire journey so he keeps his mouth shut and hugs Stan hard.

Stan feels safe against him, strong, sturdy and familiar and Kyle lets himself keep holding until he knows it's been too long. The part and both stare up at the John Elway statue. Kyle wonders if Stan is thinking the same thing he is, that the statue is important, that it's theirs. Here was where Stan has told Kyle that he hates his father time, after time. And where Kyle has listed hours worth of complaints about his mother. They come here when the world is too much and Kyle has always assumed it was an unspoken metaphor for the fact that they would not always live in the shadow of their parents. Now that is true. 

 

The snow is brown sludge on the ground and Kyle watches the suede of Stan's hiking boots become progressively darker from the wet. He hasn't yet thought to ask Stan how they're getting to San Francisco but he's beginning to worry it might involve more walking than he'd prefer, neither of them have their driving licences. Kyle's socks already feel wet. They pass the South Park town limit sign and Stan stop's abruptly and turns to face Kyle who takes the opportunity to ask, "Stan, how are we actually getting to San Francisco,"

Stan smiles as though the answer is obvious, "By train," he says. Kyle can't help but smile too, the thought is romantic and seems fitting though he can already foresee the hassle of such a thing. Stan is producing a tattered map from hid pocket, draw upon with dates and rail lines. Kyle wants to ask how long Stan might have been planning this but he refrains. Stan points at the map, it's almost illegible, "See, we have to hitch from here to here," he gestures from South Park to North Park, "but from there on out it's all tracks," he explains.

"Oh," Kyle says. Then a moment later, "okay." And Stan smiles again.

They wait outside the town limits for almost 15 minuets extending their thumbs for any passing vehicles and Kyle wonders what the rush was for. Eventually a car pulls up beside them. The boy looks a few years older and greets them only with the phrase, "Hey, I know you," looking straight at Stan. Kyle withholds a scoff, it'd be difficult not to know someone in South Park. "You're Shelly's little brother. Man, I haven't seen her in years." he carries on opening the passenger door, he ushers Stan in and gestures Kyle to the back seat which is already occupied by two large dogs. Kyle sits warily beside them and listens in on the conversation in the front. He quickly learns the boy's name is Matt, he was a former boyfriend of Shelly and he hadn't seen her in 3 years. He seemed pretty average and quite annoying. Kyle tried not to audibly sigh as Matt told Stan he had grown and looked older now like some strange uncle. He asked after Shelly and Stan said she was fine but didn't elaborate. The drive to North Park was 20 minuets of insufferable dog breath. Half way through Stan slid his hand into the back and Kyle took it gratefully.

Matt asked them what they were doing in North Park and Stan hesitated before saying they were visiting a friend. Kyle felt waves of stress and relief pass over him in quick succession. Clearly Matt wasn't bright enough to question the bags. 

They got out the car in the centre of town amid a bustle of shoppers Kyle was eager to escape the stuffy backseat. "See you around man," Matt said.

"Yeah, uh, thanks dude," Stan said. He seemed awkward.

"Bye, thank you," Kyle said. It was only thing he had said the entire time and now he wondered if Matt was the last South Park resident he'd talk to. Other than Stan.

Stan seemed to know where the train station was and once Matt was out of sight he took Kyle's hand once more and led him that way. The walk was short and the train station was rundown. It was covered in ivy but not in the nice way. Kyle used $1.26 to buy a news paper and payed for their tickets to Denver $30 each. Kyle didn't want to know how much money Stan had. He didn't want to ask yet.

They waited for the train in silence, hands interlocked and squeezing periodically, that was all the conversation they needed. Kyle sensed there would be a lot of waiting involved in this trip and just as he was thinking this the train was approaching and then it was there, then it had stopped and before he knew it he was on. There was something final about that.

**Author's Note:**

> "How many nights of talking in hotel rooms can you take?"
> 
> Please feel free to comment and kudos it makes my day and i reply to all!  
> Thank you for reading the first chapter, I hope it was worth my extended hiatus.
> 
> As always, you can find me on my tumblr @immortalkenny
> 
> See ya soon!


End file.
